


Reciprocation

by TRossWrites



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Homophobic Language, Homophobic characters, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, but they're jerks, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRossWrites/pseuds/TRossWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil may have fallen in love instantly, but for Carlos it took time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Instantly

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically I was thinking about the time before I came out to myself, and the struggle I went through. I grew up in a really religious, homophobic family, and I was like, 'what if that's why a certain scientist took so long to warm up to Cecil...'
> 
> Anyways, this fic happened. please enjoy it, it's my first fanfiction ever, so I hope it's okay!

Carlos Mendoza stood in his lab, looking around warily before beginning the unpacking process. He was feeling particularly excited about his team's newest assignment, from the moment he entered town limits, Night Vale had felt _different_ somehow. In the background, Carlos was vaguely aware of a radio playing, the sound of a man's voice coming gradually into focus as he began to listen to the words.

_"...He says he is a scientist. Well... we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he's renting..."_

Realizing that the baritone was talking about him, Carlos felt a small sense of pride that this community was so aware, so active in welcoming new members that they would announce it on public radio. He did feel a twinge of unfairness that the radio host had failed to mention the rest of his team, but let it slide. Carlos was, of course, the head scientist. The voice went off on a tangent, describing proper safety for children playing outside, and Carlos realized a change in the man's demeanor. It was almost as though when he'd been talking about Carlos, with his breakers and humming instruments, there'd been a certain tenderness, an affection painting every word. He shook the thought off, it was ridiculous to think that someone would feel that way, before they'd even met, especially another guy.

A small chime from Carlos' phone reminded him that he'd called a town meeting, which would be starting in a few minutes. He hastily turned out the lab door, not wanting to be late.

_"...a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect..."_

Carlos blushed suddenly and intensely, who was this radio personality? Why the hell was he giving a commentary on Carlos' hair, of all things? He ran a cautious hand through his black curls with a feeling like dread and disgust clenching his stomach as he left the lab, and it didn't leave him until he began the meeting.

Dr. Mendoza was a scientist. He was a freethinker, a coffee addict, a workaholic, he was many things.

Gay was not one of them.

 

~~~

 

When he came back to the lab, Carlos was pleased to see that most of the boxes had been unpacked, his team of scientists engaged in lively conversation that died as he walked through the door.

"Hey, uh, Carlos." Grace blinked her wide eyes, pushing back her auburn bangs with her free hand, a clipboard in her other.

"Grace." He nodded in greeting, eyeing the scientists suspiciously, "How're... things back here? What's going on?" He stepped closer to the group, whose expressions varied from terrified to the pained face of a held-back laugh.

Devon spoke up first, turning red from suppressed giggles, "I guess you weren't listening to the radio during the meeting, were you?" He snorted a laugh, an odd quirk of his, earning a warning smack on the arm from another scientist.

"Oh, God. What happened?" Carlos took a step backward, searching each of his colleagues faces in turn.

"Well, Carlos, Dr. Mendoza," Harriet hardly ever called him that, only when she'd broken equipment, or mistaken readings. "You, uh, you listened to some of the radio earlier, yes? It was left on when we arrived." She was cringing, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy, "It's just, I mean-"

"I fell in love _instantly,"_ Devon mock-purred, his laugh shaking the room as he doubled over, "Oh, God. He was _starstruck._ I had no idea you had such fairy appeal, Carlos. It must be that strong jaw, and perfect hair."

Carlos' blush made a second and just as strong recurrence. "He wouldn't dare," He growled, feeling embarrassed beyond rationality. "He didn't, not really?"

Harriet and Grace were already averting Carlos' gaze, Devon and Charli were busting their guts, leaning on each other and laughing like mad. As a last resort, Carlos looked pleadingly at Miller, who shook his head solemnly.

"Yes, he did. He also had an intern come by and formally ask for- and I'm giving a direct quote- 'Something science-y from our town's newest, cutest scientist.'" You could always count on Miller to be honest with you, whether it was what you needed or not.

"Carlos, just take it as a compliment," Offered Grace, clutching to her clipboard like a lifeline, "I mean, he was only trying to be kind, and you do have excellent hair. He just, I mean, I'm sure if you told him, he'd back off. It might not have even occurred to him that you aren't..." Her voice faltered, the last word a whispered squeak as Carlos glowered at her, "Gay."

Devon and Charli erupted into another bout of guffaws, Charli clutched her stomach, having laughed herself to actual pain, "Can you imagine? Dr. Carlos Mendoza, Scientist Extraordinaire, dating some pansy radio host?"

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose, still blushing fiercely, his skin hot with discomfort, "Shut up, all of you. Miller, Grace, you two were looking into that housing development, was there any substance to that?"

Grace began flipping through the notes clutched in her arms, a look of excitement growing now that the focus was moving, "Yeah, definitely, there's this house, and-"

"Sounds perfect." Carlos interrupted, "Prepare a statement, did the intern leave a phone number for the station? I need you or Miller to deliver it, so if you could-" from the pocket of his jeans, a shrill ring came, alerting Carlos of a call, "One minute,"

He pulled out the cell, and when he didn't recognize the number, answered with an unsure, "Hello?"

"Don't tell me that I have the honour of having reached _Carlos?_ As in, The Scientist?" Carlos had no idea his name or occupation was a euphemism, because the way that smooth voice stretched out his name and sighed softly wasn't innocent by any stretch of the imagination.

"I-uh- who is this?" Carlos' voice cracked uncertainly, and he ran a hand down his face, sighing when he heard the team silence themselves, no doubt trying to listen to whoever was making their colleague cringe like he was.

"Why, I'm so sorry, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Cecil Palmer, the community radio host. I was just wondering if maybe I could get through, you know, to ask for a scientific statement, to air on the radio, and I had no idea that when I dialed the number marked 'Scientist' that I'd get through to you. I mean, not on something this small, I was expecting someone else, and I'm feeling a bit embarrassed now, and I guess I just want to know-"

"Are we on the air?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not right now. I've got a public service announcement, running, see, so I can just-"

"I have something right now, actually." Carlos held out his hand, snapping his fingers, and Grace put the clipboard in his hand, "A house that doesn't exist. It's in the new development, Desert Creek. It seems like it exists, like, it's right there when you look at it, and it's between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not."

Carlos was looking at the notes, disbelieving, then back up at Miller who nodded soberly. Carlos shrugged, anything to end this torturous phone call, "We've got scientists out there right now," He gestured to Devon and Charli, gesturing them to go the door, "And we've conducted all sorts of tests, its just not there."

He handed the clipboard back to Grace with a curt nod. "That's all we have to release at this time."

"Ooh, that sounds so, so _science-y."_ He really was purring. Like a cat. Did people actually _do_ that? "You know, Carlos, moving can be hard, and it's no fun trying to adjust to a new town on your own, and I was just wondering if you just would like to-"

"Haven't you got a public service announcement ending soon?"

"Right! Of course, some other time, then. Bye, Carlos! Stay safe-" Carlos hung up, still blushing.

Devon and Charli had just walked out the door of the lab, and the silence with them gone was heavy in the room. Carlos sighed, "Grace, can you go over those notes, please? I want to read them later, when you've got them revised. Miller, Harriet, let's keep unpacking these boxes. I want to get some meters hooked up and taking measurements as soon as we can." Slowly, as though coming out of a trance, the scientists began working again.

Carlos sighed, rolling his shoulders and getting to work, plugging in various equipment and aligning dials.

"Hey, is anyone else's seismograph acting up?"


	2. The Barber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tentative triggers this chapter, homophobic parents, implied abusive parent. I don't think it's anything too dangerous, just to be safe, though.
> 
> Also, literal thirteen year old girl Carlos Mendoza.

Night Vale was certainly one of the most scientifically interesting communities Carlos had ever encountered. Every day presented some odd sentience or glowing aura to be tested. However, no matter what pressing science matter was at hand, once a day, the radio was flicked on, volume cranked.

_"Hello, listeners..."_

Most days it really was in their interest to leave the radio on, countless times were their lives saved by Cecil's news broadcasts, and his voice really was rather soothing. Of course, not three days went by without some mention of "Our beloved local scientist," or how much Cecil just adored science. These sorts of comments were followed by seemingly endless smart remarks and awkward interactions with the other scientists.

"Now, Carlos. You know I can't focus on your instructions, what with that _strong jaw_ stealing the show."

"Oh, Dr. Mendoza! If only I had some way of publicly obsessing, just to express how I adore your caramel voice. Maybe I'm only breaking beakers to listen to you shout."

"You know, you really do have amazing hair. I mean, I've noticed it before, but I've never really appreciated it."

One man can only take so much.

For some reason, whenever something particularly "science-y" happened, it fell upon Carlos to report it to Cecil. This wouldn't have been a problem, of course, if Carlos just told Cecil to stop mooning over him like he did. To be honest, though, Carlos never told him to stop. He was rude, incredibly so. He would cut him off and ignore him, but Cecil just _let_ him. Never did he stop making the little happy noises or heavy laden compliments, a surprising number of them hair centered.

After two weeks, Carlos decided enough was enough. Maybe if the distraction was gone, Cecil would move on. He found a barber who accepted walk-ins, and gave his thick, black hair the cut it deserved for all the trouble it had brought him.

It hardly seemed like a big deal, every few months Carlos had his hair cut, allowing a fresh start for the long, curling locks, but he'd walked into the door of the lab, still running his hand across the back of his head when he heard the complaints drift from the radio,

_"...please explain to me why Carlos would strip away - decimate! - any part of his thick black hair...not to ignore the dignified, if premature, touch of gray in the temples..."_

Harriet turned around, a hand on her mouth and a soft gasp when she saw Carlos, "Oh. Oh, God he was right."

The rest of the scientist swiveled in their seats, or turned from where they stood at assorted equipment to get a better view.

"You cut it."

"What the hell, man? I thought you liked it long!"

"Oh, I mean, it looks nice,"

"Is this seriously because of what some queer said? Wow, somebody's touchy."

Carlos was blushing again (that was something about this town, he didn't seem to remember being this sensitive to embarrassment.) "I wanted to cut it. It was getting ridiculous, guys. I could put it in a ponytail!" He kept his eyes down, wanting to be anywhere but there.

"Yeah, but Carlos. It's not like you ever really complained before."

"It's been _growing,_ Grace. Hair does that. Just because it didn't bug me two weeks ago doesn't mean I still liked it today." He had to keep stopping himself from rubbing his head self-consciously. "Besides, I think it looks just fine when it's short."

Devon and Charli were exchanging knowing looks, heavy with exasperation.

"Mendoza, if you cared that much, why don't you just ask the fag to stop? I'm sure he'd do _anything_ for you." Charli cocked an eyebrow, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

"Guys, this isn't because of Cecil. I swear, can't I even get a haircut without everyone accusing me?" Yes, it was childish, strangely reminiscent of a teenage girl, but he stomped away, locking the door to his small office behind him.

 

~~~

 

The Mendoza family was strongly Christian. Carlos went to church every Sunday until he moved out, and he still attended Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday. So in his junior year of high school, when he first met Terri, He didn't know how to react to what the other boy had made him feel. They took it slow, shyly and carefully working through every level of discomfort until, slowly, Carlos came to grips with what he was feeling. Soft smiles became lingering glances, awkward brushes of their hands developed into tentative hand-holding. Cautious laughter lead to chaste kisses. Friendship blossomed into something so much more, so much bigger.

After a month of secret meetings and whispered _I love you_ s, Carlos had pulled aside his mother and told her about the boy in his chemistry class. Terri with eyes like ice and a touch like the softest of breezes. She hadn't reacted well. Carlos still winced to remember her words, striking him harder than his father ever did. _"Carlos Mendoza! There is something wrong with you, this is corrupt! You call this love? This is the work of the devil, you are no son of mine."_ It was the first time she'd ever yelled at him, and it came as a surprise. Carlos hadn't known what he'd really been expecting, Mrs. Mendoza had never shown anything but disgust for transgression. _"This isn't love, you don't love him. This is lust, disgusting, sinful, an abomination..."_

From then on, Carlos never spoke to Terri again. He never dated another boy, but rather had several relationships with women, and told himself he was happy. Eventually, they all fell apart. He worked too hard, he was too dependent, he never had any time. When people disappointed, Carlos dove into his studies, advancing far beyond anyone's expectations, wanting nothing more than acceptance.

 

~~~

 

In the privacy of his office, Carlos opened the website for online streaming of NVCR, and with his volume on low, hit play.

_"...Telly the Barber cut Carlos's beautiful hair. According to reports. Telly. Now, while I gather myself, let's have a look at traffic..."_

Leaning back in his chair, Carlos ran his hand up the back of his head again, wondering why he had done it, there wasn't anything to gain by it, and he had always preferred it on the long side. Maybe he'd overreacted, maybe this really was just him acting childish. Carlos fell silent again, letting Cecil's voice float through the small office.

Carlos Mendoza did not care for this frivolous radio host. He was above such sin, destined for something more than Hell. Wasn't he?

_"...That has been traffic. And now for an editorial. I don't ask favors much, dear listeners, that you know. But I'm asking all of you now to conduct a letter-writing campaign to station management, which was not...pleased with my discussion of their physical attributes and behavior and is now threatening to shut down my show - or possibly my life - for good..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise surprise surprise, Carlos is hella gay. Who saw that coming? (Everyone. Literally everyone.)
> 
> And that lovely conversation with his momma is actually inspired by true events in my life. Isn't religion great?


	3. The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, sleepy scientist. But, actually the kind of tired that's more like '18 shots of espresso I haven't showered in three weeks' tired. Not adorable at all.

After the incident with Telly and the haircut, Carlos buried himself in his work, becoming all the more irritable and detached from other people, from the real world. He spent days at the lab, working until the other scientists kicked him out, telling him to get some sleep, a shower, anything. Just to stop being such a recluse. It was during one of these several-day science binges that he heard Charli's harsh voice ring through the lab,

"Oh, God. Guess who's outside." Carlos heard scrambling as other members of the team got up from their various experiments, their voices strained whispers, tense and cautious.

"Um, Carlos. I think someone's here looking for you." So far, Carlos hadn't been paying much attention, huddled over his microscope and jotting down notes rigorously.

"'M busy." He squinted, slowly turning a dial to magnify the slide.

"No, seriously, Mendoza, get your butt out here. Your amoeba can wait." There was a hand on his shoulder that he shook off, driven by lack of sleep and enough caffeine to kill most small dogs. He was intensely focused, and a little twitchy.

  
_"Carlos._ It's Cecil." That caught his attention, his head snapping up so fast he nearly smashed it against Miller's face.

"Wh-what?" Carlos tended to stutter when he'd had too much coffee, slurring some words and tripping over others. "Why's he, wh-why's he 'ere?" How many days had it been since he slept? What day was it? He looked around his desk at the scattered papers, unintelligible notes, and long-empty coffee mugs. It must've been at least three, and he was losing almost all control over his speech.

"God, Carlos, you're a wreck." Harriet put on a concerned, motherly face. "When did you last sleep? Have you been home at all since the incident with the bakery?"

"Unimportant." Interjected Devon. "Can you stand? There's a sad little fag outside, and I think he's looking for you." Carlos tried to rise to his feet, but stumbled and sat back in his chair.

"I-I'm jus'..." He reached up to run a shaky hand through his hair, and was momentarily surprised as his fatigued brain struggled to remember the haircut. "I can't—-" his head was nodding again and he felt Miller's strong hands catching him before he hit the microscope and setting his face gently against the cool tabletop.

"He can't see Cecil, not like this." Miller was second-in-command, taking on the authoritative role whenever Carlos overworked himself. "Harriet, can you go see what Mr. Palmer needs? Tell him Carlos is busy right now." After a lingering stare of worry, she nodded and walked out to talk to Cecil, and everyone seemed to quiet down so that Carlos could catch snippets of their conversation.

"Is Carlos here? I was thinking about the moon, and—"

"Dr. Mendoza is _extremely_ busy right now."

"Oh, with what?"

"Well, um..." Harriet looked back into the lab, then stepped into Cecil's line of sight so that he couldn't see where Carlos slumped over his notes, looking for all the world like a zombie. "Doing Science. You know, us scientists and our science." It was a stretch, most people only got offended by the 'Doing Science' line, but Cecil seemed to understand completely.

"Oh, of course! I'd hate to interrupt Carlos in his element. I guess, I mean, I can just find something else to fill the airtime. I could run the story on the green market..."

"That sounds great. I have science to get to as well, actually, so I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Well, don't forget to tune in today!" They exchanged pleasantries, and Carlos heard the door close.

"Doing Science? Really, Harriet?"

"Hey, I was stressing, and I didn't want him to worry about Carlos!"

As the conversation died down, the room was slowly filled with a steady snore from the scientist in question, and Miller sighed.

"Someone needs to take him home. Is anyone...?" All the other scientists seemed to have a sudden interest in their experiments. "Right. Fine."

Miller stood in front of Carlos a moment, awkwardly trying to wake him up, then eventually settling to wrap his arms around Carlos, carrying him bridal-style out of the laboratory and out to Miller's truck. Carlos was mumbling nonsensically and wrapped his arms around Miller's neck when he tried to set him down on the seat.

"Don't leggo me." Carlos' eyes were still closed tight as he clung to the larger scientist, his voice quiet and childlike. "don' leggo." His grip weakened as he fell deeper into sleep, and Miller managed to get him sitting up and strapped in with the seat belt. Miller walked around to the other side of the truck, starting the ignition and looking over at Carlos who slept uneasily in the seat beside him before driving out of the parking lot.

 

~~~

 

Miller carried Carlos up his apartment stairs with ease, he was easily the strongest of all the scientists, and stood stupidly in front of Carlos' door. Of course it was locked, why hadn't he thought of that? How had he expected to open the door while carrying the sleeping scientist, anyways? Miller looked up and down the hallway before softly speaking to Carlos,

"Dr. Mendoza? Hey, Doctor, wake up." He raised his voice slightly, gently shaking him in his arms to rouse him, "Where're your keys, Dr. Mendoza?" Carlos' eyes flickered open for a moment before closing again.

"'M pocket. You can get 'em." He really was so tired, Miller realized, he couldn't even keep his eyes open."Doctor..." He sighed, shaking his head as he slowly sat Carlos back on his feet, holding him up by pulling him close as he reached into the other man's jeans, pulling out the keys and unlocking the door before picking him back up. "God, you're getting heavy. You should go for runs or something." he walked through the apartment, surprised with how tidy it was compared to the scientist's desk. "I guess you don't spend a lot of time in here, do you? You kinda live in the lab..."

Miller felt much more comfortable talking when he knew no one was listening, and had Carlos been more aware, he'd have been surprised by how talkative he was. Miller had reached the bedroom, and gently sat Carlos down on the bed. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Carlos shook his head, burying his face into a pillow with a groan. "God, you're pathetic." Miller walked back through the house, finding a cup from the cupboard and filling it with water, coming back into Carlos' room and sitting him up.

"You've had nothing but coffee and ramen since Saturday, drink up." He pressed the cup to Carlos' lips until he began to drink. When he'd finished, Miller laid him back down, pulling off his combat boots and lab coat so that he could sleep more comfortably, then went back into the kitchen. Miller had done this sort of thing all the time back when they had worked together at the university and was used to the pattern.

After taking a quick inventory, Miller found that the only fresh fruit in the house was a rather suspicious looking apple and a God-knows-how-old smoothie sitting in his fridge. Unless you counted ketchup packets, which sat in several takeout containers that shared a shelf of the refrigerator. Miller shook his head with a sigh, a testament to the scientist. He did a general tidy of the small apartment, and finding a notebook, left a note out on the counter beside a glass of water and two Tylenol tablets.

 

_Carlos,_

_Get some sleep, take a shower, don't come back to the lab until Friday at least. We'll call you if there's an emergency. Restock your fridge, I threw away the takeout that was gaining consciousness. If you get bored, no experimenting. I updated your Netflix queue, catch up on Breaking Bad._

_Miller._

 

He thought back to all the other times he had to do this, all of the times he had to sort through his boss' laundry or start the shower running for him. Miller knew more about Carlos than Dr. Mendoza knew about himself. There were times that Carlos spoke in his sleep, others where he dreamed vividly. Sometimes it felt more like dealing with a sad drunk than anything, and other days it was like babysitting.

On one occasion, about ten months ago, Carlos outed himself to Miller.

He'd been having a nightmare, mumbling and rolling around in his bed when Miller woke him up, asking what was wrong. Carlos explained how he'd come out to his parents, and his father's violent reaction. It's not that Miller cared, but the rest of the team had never been exactly respectful. Miller didn't think Carlos even remembered, and it had never came up, until Cecil came into the picture. Miller stood uncomfortably in Carlos' kitchen a moment before finding a radio sitting on the counter, and turning it on. Cecil would be on soon, anyways. No one ever missed Cecil's show.

_"Close your eyes. Let my words wash over you. You are safe now. Welcome to Night Vale."_

Miller walked out, remembering to leave Carlos' keys on the counter before leaving the apartment.

 

~~~

 

Carlos tossed in his shallow sleep, waking after only a few minutes. At first he was confused, wondering how he got home, but after rolling out of bed and walking into the kitchen where he read the note, he smiled sleepily. As he stood, swaying slowly from exhaustion, he heard his radio, softly bringing Cecil's melodious voice floating through his apartment.

_"Listeners, do you ever think about the moon? I was sitting outside last night looking at the moon and I thought, does anyone actually know what that thing is? Have there been any studies on this? I went to ask Carlos, but he hasn't been seen much since that treacherous Telly's vile haircut."_

Went to ask...? But then Carlos remembered, pinching the bridge of his nose to diffuse his fatigue headache. Of course, Cecil had shown up at the lab looking for him, right before he fell into the strange, unaccountable time where he was neither awake nor asleep.

Vaguely, Carlos remembered being carried into his apartment, his coat being pulled off, the sound of Miller complaining as he helped Carlos.

_"...Is there something more interesting than us? Hey, watch us moon! We may not always be the best show in the universe, but we try."_

He sighed, looking down at the Tylenol and wondering whether killing his headache would be worth the energy boost from the small painkillers. Eventually he went rummaging through his cupboard, finding a bottle of sleeping pills and taking one of those instead. In the walk back into his bedroom, he peeled off his shirt and nearly tripped while dropping his pants in the hall, ending up curled in his bed wearing only his socks and boxers, and was already falling asleep when he realized the radio was still playing.

Carried by the sweet tones of Cecil Palmer's news reporting, Carlos fell into a much deeper and more calm sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Miller is an adorable baby-man who deserves 10000 hugs for being so supportive even though literally everyone is a homophobic dick.  
> Thanks, Miller.


	4. Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda picking up the pace, we're gonna be doing bigger time jumps.
> 
> Tired of listening to this adorable gay loser whine about his sexuality yet? Haha, too bad. I like projecting my suppressed homosexual tendencies on my characters.

Charli came running into the lab quite early in the morning, in fact, Carlos had only just arrived when she was seen flying up the street, wearing yoga pants and a tank top.

"God, Carlos-" She leaned over, breathing deeply, "The- uh, canyon. Radon Canyon."

Carlos starred in the pre-dawn light at her, wheezing and dripping with sweat, and kept silent. He raised one eyebrow with concern, his keys in one hand and a go-cup of coffee in the other.

"Radon Canyon. Get in the coupe." She grabbed him by the elbow, ignoring his protests as she pulled him to his car. "Drive. You have to see this." Carlos gave up resistance, and with a sigh began the drive.

 

~~~

 

"Cecil!" The radio broadcaster's head snapped up in both surprise and hope as he recognized the voice,

"C-Carlos? What're you doing here? I mean, I just realized, you've never really visited me while I was at work before." He was sitting in a rolling office chair, blushing furiously with his legs crossed at the ankle. Carlos stood in the doorway of the recording booth, a sort of frenzied excitement in his eyes.

"Cecil, what do you know about Radon Canyon?"

"Well, um, I mean, Carlos. That's a pretty huge topic! It is, after all, an _entire canyon_ , but I guess I can summarize it." Cecil slid into his radio voice, smoothing out his skirt as he spoke, to keep from completely freaking out. "Night Vale Tourism Board recommends visiting, certainly. 'It will literally take your breath away!'" Here he chuckled slightly, "They really need to work on their slogan writing, but anyways.

"There is, of course, the rumours that it may be contaminated by plutonium, but are we really supposed to believe some yellow sign with tacky red lettering? I sure don't, and-"

"Cecil, what do you know about the _lights_ in Radon Canyon? What's making them? Charli, she's one of the scientists, noticed some flickering along with incomprehensible noises coming from the canyon last weekend. I was just wondering whether that was just normal Night Vale stuff, or if we should be worried." Carlos shifted his weight uncomfortably, the way Cecil stared at him, and that _damn skirt_ made him wish he'd sent one of the other scientists to have this discussion.

"Hmm. Flickering lights, you say? That really is interesting. I don't think that's ever been reported before. I'll ask our listeners if they noticed any lights." He leaned forward, "Are you going to, uh, Do Science on the canyon?" He batted his eyelashes hopefully, and Carlos couldn't help but to be reminded of his nieces and nephews, endlessly entertained by the prospect of _Science._  


Carlos realized he was blushing, Cecil really needed to get that voice of his under control. "I-uh, yeah. I am going to Do Science on the canyon. I mean, assuming the plutonium levels are safe. Anyways, I guess I should get back. To, um, Science," He turned and started his way out of the recording booth when he heard Cecil call out after him,

"Wait! I mean, my show starts in 20 minutes, if you wait around I could interview you about the canyon situation on the air, maybe then we'll get more interest from the listeners, and-"

Carlos turned back, looking at Cecil soberly. "Cecil, any matter of sinister forces could be at work here. I'm scared for you, scared for all of you in this strange town." With that he was gone, out the door and on the way back to his lab.

 

~~~

 

The scientists sat on the hot desert sand, talking and laughing under the sun. The six of them had at first been Doing Science, but slowly lab coats were abandoned, notebooks were sat down, and they we just laughing. Exchanging Night Vale weirdness and pre-Night Vale normality. Nothing interesting was really happening with the canyon, and while the high radiation readings would have concerned Carlos six months ago, he'd gotten used to them by now.

"Oh, God, but remember pasta? How long has it been since I had alfredo?" There were scattered laughs and sympathy moans. "I would _kill_ for some ravioli, at this point. 'Wheat and wheat by-products.' does that make any sense at all?"

They settled into a comfortable silence, sitting under the too-hot sun and staring out across the desert.

"It's, um, it's five minutes to." Grace was holding her phone, waving it halfheartedly to show the time. "Shouldn't we...?"

Carlos buried his face in his hands, "Do we have to every time?" Grace had already opened the streaming website for NVCR, and the group seemed to hold their breath in reverence.

_"Silence is golden. Words are vibrations. Thoughts are magic. Welcome to Night Vale."_

At the sound of Cecil's voice, Carlos was flooded with the memory of their earlier talk, and a blush. Of course, the other scientists noticed immediately, and Devon reached over to jab him in the ribs.

"Feelin' all right there, Mendoza? Try not to get embarrassed, but you're _bright red."_ Was there anything more annoying, redundant, or just plain rude as when people pointed that out? Wouldn't you just assume someone knew when they blushed?

"I- God, Devon!" Carlos only blushed harder, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "It's just... well. I went in earlier, right? To ask about the lights," He waved vaguely at the canyon, and continued after an encouraging nod from Harriet, "But when I got there- you'd never guess- he was wearing a _miniskirt_.I wouldn't lie to you about this, he was." Even as he said it, Carlos regretted it. Sure, the attention was diverted from him, but it felt wrong to treat Cecil like this, even in private.

"You're lying!" Grace had gone pale as a sheet, and Harriet beside her was blushing deeply, hiding her face in her hands.

Devon and Charli gave inhuman shrieks of laughter, rapid firing lewd comments to each other. Even Miller was visibly shaken, and he opened his mouth as though to say something, but it seemed he'd thought better of it, because he quickly closed it again.

"Guys, guys, shut up." Carlos staggered up to his feet, dusting the sand off of his jeans. "Look, I've got to go check on some fascinating bacterial cultures, but you can just finish these tests, okay?" No one seemed to be listening to him, and he sighed. Shaking his head as he walked back to his coupe, he couldn't help but wonder about Cecil. Why would anyone ever choose to do that? Purposefully express their, their _trespasses_ in such a flamboyant and obvious way.Carlos shuddered as he started the ignition, the radio turning on along with the car,

_"...how can you get the best odds for drawing a blank white paper, and not one of the purple pieces that means you'll be ceremonially disemboweled and eaten by the wolves at the Night Vale Petting Zoo and Makeshift Carnival?"_

Was that really the problem, though? The skirt wasn't that big of a deal, it was just an article of clothing, for God's sake. a simple, shimmery wrap of purple that didn't mean _anything_. What really got to Carlos was how that _damn skirt_ made him feel.

The coupe honked abruptly as Carlos dropped his head onto the steering wheel with a groan. He was blushing, turning red from ear to ear. Did he really need to be worrying about this right now? Had anyone been this bothered by a bit of thigh since high school?

"I'm not gay." Carlos whispered to himself. He _wasn't._ He didn't care about Cecil, about his opinions, about what he said, what he wore, nothing. He was _done_.

It took the whole drive back to the lab before he realized that he'd never turned off the radio.

_"Carlos, this station's favorite scientist (no offense to Dr. Dubinski in the Night Vale Community College chemistry department) dropped by our broadcasting station earlier this morning for a little chat. Sadly, dinner or weekend plans were not among the topics."_

His finger froze, hovering beside the radio's power button. Had their conversation been radio-worthy? He ran over it in his head, lights, canyon, Science, nothing noteworthy.

_"However, Carlos did request that we ask listeners for anyone who saw a series of bright, colorful flickers coming from Radon Canyon this past weekend. These flickers would also have also been accompanied by unintelligible noises - possibly some form of coded communication or signal-jamming technique. Carlos suggested that there could be some very sinister forces at work here. He declined to be interviewed live, claiming only that he was scared for us. Scared for all of us in our strange town. Then he drove away quickly in his economical but attractively sporty hybrid coupe."_

He let out a sigh, turning off the radio and leaning back. For the smallest instant, he'd felt disappointment that there hadn't been some comment on his hair, but this was quickly shooed away.

Carlos didn't care. Right, he didn't need validation from some radio show host, he certainly didn't want to hear his voice, or talk to him.

A chime drew Carlos' attention to his pocket, and he fished out his cell.

More than a dozen missed texts from his team, asking the exact nature of the skirt. One text stood out in particular, though.

  
**Dana Cardinal:** Have you heard about those billboards yet? You should check them out...

Carlos sighed, anything to get his mind off of Cecil, he'd deal with bacteria later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carlos thinks Cecil has hot legs. Obviously, I mean, you'd have to be stupid not to.  
> I'm actually not sure if Dana's interning yet... whatever, I like her and I'm too lazy to research any of that. I know, wheat and wheat by-products are technically legal still, shhhh, time is weird. Time doesn't exist, actually.
> 
> Carlos needs to clean up his act though, I mean SHEESH go tell the boy he's cute and kiss him or whatever.


	5. The Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter, it's kinda fluffy, mostly just gay losers being teenage girls, being awful at emotions and such.

Even at night, the desert was hot. In the bleak evening, late January, temperatures were still hovering at 77 degrees, even inside the laboratory. Carlos was hunched over a desk, looking frustratedly at the scattered remains of several disemboweled clocks and watches. He fervently worked at splitting open the last timepiece as he heard the lab door swing closed, and he was alone.

"Wait, Harriet, before you go-" But she was gone, and Carlos was left on his own, a hollow clock in his hands. Rather than get up or chase after her, Carlos looked down at his work table where his cellphone laid.

With a deep breath and a last review of his notes, Carlos picked up the cell, hands shaking slightly. Before he could second guess himself, he hit the contact name on the dimly lit screen.

**Cecil**

The phone rang, two-three-four times and Carlos imagined him squealing, spinning on the spot, trying to contain himself. The thought inexplicably brought a smile to his face and the scientist found that he was the one fighting to calm down. _It's only a phone call,_ he chastised, _I'm not_ _calling for personal reasons_.

"Hello?" Carlos could see the way he would be smiling, fighting to look composed the way that he did.

"I need to talk to you. This is important." He slid his hand down his face, trying not to groan out loud, could he have sounded any dumber?

"Umm, okay." When he was off the radio, Cecil always reminded Carlos of a much younger man, (occasionally a teenage girl, if Carlos was to be honest) but his voice was now laced with hesitance and uncertainty.

"Cecil." Oh, God. Oh, God, can't he just disappear? Sink down into the earth and die? "Cecil, Cecil. I think time is slowing down in Night Vale." _Three times. I said his name three times in a row._ Carlos bit down hard on his lip, debating whether he should just hang up right now and skip town. It would certainly be much easier than this phone conversation.

There was a pause, "Oh?" and Carlos nearly died.

"Last week: seven days, 24 hours each day, 60 minutes in each hour. That's 10,080 minutes in a week, right?" If he couldn't carry the conversation, at least he could get across the science of it all. Science made sense, it was measured in numbers and graduated cylinders. Conversations were debatable, could be taken the wrong way, at least science didn't make Carlos' palms sweat and heart race.

"Uh huh, go on..." Carlos could hardly hear Cecil at this point, _Why did I call him, why did I call him whydidicallhim UGH._  


"Well, I ran some figures, and during that same amount of time in Night Vale, 11,783 minutes elapsed everywhere else in the world. That's more than a full day longer. I don't know what's happening." His voice was picking up momentum, trying to end the conversation as quickly as he could and praying he didn't stutter.

"Neat!" Cecil gave a small choking sound, and it seemed to Carlos like he'd done something wrong, based on the muffled curses he heard from the phone speaker. He wondered a moment if he should hang up before he heard the fumbling of a phone being adjusted,

"I- Carlos.This is an amazing discovery, it really is, I swear. Do you think we could maybe meet up later this week? Friday, maybe, after the show, and talk about it over dinner?" The hope in Cecil's voice crushed Carlos to deny him, but despite being in Night Vale for nearly a year, he still felt incredible unease around the radio host.

"No, sorry Cecil. I just need you to get the word out, okay? Can you make sure that if anyone notices any time shifts, they send word to me or the rest of the team?" It hurt his heart to say this, in his mind's eye he could see Cecil, crestfallen and perhaps just as embarrassed as Carlos felt.

"Oh. Of course, yeah, I'll mention it. Maybe some other time then..." There was an incredibly awkward silence where Carlos felt inclined to take it back, to apologize, anything, but Cecil was the one to break the tension, "Goodnight, Carlos. Stay safe." He hung up before Carlos could answer.

 

~~~

 

In the eight-or-so months Carlos had lived in Night Vale, it was as though the whole town was working him towards a relationship with Cecil. The prospect, which had initially horrified him, soon made him blush, smile deeply, even laugh softly. His team of scientists definitely noticed before him, the lighthearted teasing turned to harsh accusations that lead to a presentation on homophobia in the workplace and being accepting. Carlos never heard of the threatening discussions had between Miller and Devon, or the time Harriet and Grace teamed up on Charli to draw up some boundaries. That Christmas, when a tentative Carlos came out to his team as gay, there was no debate. Only acceptance and support.

Night Vale might not seem very welcoming to an outsider, but it may be the one place to ever accept you with open arms, regardless.

 

~~~

 

It had been nearly a week since their conversation, and Carlos had completely immersed himself in work.

Sure, the rest of the team came and went,dragging him out of the lab for sleep, meals, and showers, but they were each wrapped up in their own experiments. No one else was quite as occupied with the prospect of time as Carlos. That Friday, he was only dimly aware of Cecil's show running in the background as he tinkered with various timepieces and went over graphs when he suddenly heard a gasp from Grace at a nearby table,

"Carlos, listen! The radio," He looked up from his desk, finally giving attention to the radio.

_"Carlos! Carlos, the dark, delicate-skinned scientist who came into our little town and our littler hearts several months ago. Well, I gave him my home phone number quite a while back, and he never called, and I didn't think anything of it, right? I mean, sometimes people just don't call, and that's okay..."_

Carlos found himself blushing, looking down at the clock he held, and its unexplainable insides.

"You called him? Oh my God, did you finally ask him out?" Grace's pale face was pulled into a wide smile, which looked odd in contrast to the startling cyan stains that were soaking into her lab coat.

"Took you long enough, I swear, Where're you going? Is it tonight? Get home and clean yourself up!" Once Charli had been convinced that being an asshole really wasn't in her best interests, she was quite supportive of Carlos.

"You guys! I was just trying to explain the clocks, and the thing with the time..." He smiled softly, pausing to hear the radio,

_"I mean, that's pretty forward, right, listeners? But I can't tell exactly what he wants yet. And he said "Cecil." Just the sound of his caramel voice! "Cecil," he says. "Cecil. I think time is slowing down in Night Vale." And then I said, after a slow sip of Armagnac, "Oh?""_

"Caramel voice..." Carlos laughed and shook his head. If there was anything he didn't like about himself, it was his whiny, childish voice. Listening to this man, who had the most beautiful and soothing voice Carlos had ever heard, dote upon his awkward croak made him blush. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, Carlos. Did you really say that? 'Cecil, Cecil, Cecil.' You seriously need some help." Harriet was giggling, pushing her long dark hair out of her eyes.

"I was embarrassed! He was not making it easy, I swear. We sounded like awkward teenagers, neither of us knew what to say, and he kept giving non-answers, and I just kept Doing Science, and..." He realized that everyone was looking at him with knowing smiles and looks of exasperation.

_"...So that's what Carlos said! Listeners, what do you think? I feel like time always slows down when we're together, Carlos and I. Is that what he's trying to say? I feel that way too! But I didn't say it, I just said, ohh, this is bad...I just said, "Neat!" Ugh! How embarrassing! I mean, Carlos is so smart, and he says so many smart things! And I'm not dumb! I like science and municipally-approved books just as much as the next guy, so I can't believe that's all I could say to him. "Neat!""_

Carlos smiled, running a shy hand through his hair and ruffling it. "Neat..." his voice was much softer than he intended, and very tender. His other hand was still clutching the clock, "Oh! The clocks, I forgot to tell him," He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, setting the clock down on the table as he opened up his contacts and punched Cecil's name. He waited as the call rang out and brought him to his voicemail,

_"You have reached the voicemail of Cecil Gershwin Palmer. That might seem like an easy thing to do, but think about how long you had to stay alive just to learn how a phone works and who I am. Congratulate yourself on that. Give yourself a vigorous pat on the back, and...don't forget to leave a message after the heavily distorted sample of a man saying "I just couldn't eat another bite._

 

_"I̱̺̭͕̜ ̥̐͂͆̋j̰̥͔̔̒ͬ̐͆͊ͮǘ͓̺̳̰̑ͅs͕̝͎̼̞̏t͚̋ ̟̥͂ͧ̑c̓ͬ́͐̌̀o͇͖ͩ̋̄̊̽ͬu͈̲͉͍̩ͦ̎l̩̜͊̽̉͛̅ͥd̙̝͌͑̐͗͆n̬'̟̹̦͖̒͗͐͛t̰̠̙͖̱̹̰͌ͨ͆ͬ ̤̭̲̭̪͇ͪ̄ͯ́ͯ͊̍ͅê͕͈̣ͩ͆̂ͩa̯̠͍̮̾t͉͈̊ ̟̯͂͐͊̌̌̍ͅa̺̮̻̮̱͚̩͛n̟̝͇͎̥̂ͫ̏̈́o̺̰͇͔̹͓̩͊̍ṫ͇̠̭̻ͦh͉̹̼͙̯̊͒̂͛e͖̗͉̦͗̄ͩr̖̺͍̩͆̈́̓̈́ ̫͈̟̗̞ͤͣͧͅb̰ͮͤ͗͊ͬͧi̠̺̙̍t͚͙̆ẽ̜͈̞͐̌.̮ͧ̍̏ͯ̋͒"_

 

After the initial shock, Carlos cleared his throat and began relaying the message, closing his eyes.

"Cecil, sorry to bother you. I need you to get the word out that clocks in Night Vale are not real. I have not found a single real clock. I have disassembled several watches and clocks this week and all of them are hollow inside. No gears, no crystal, no battery or power source. Some of them actually contain a gelatinous gray lump that seems to be growing hair...and teeth. I need to know if all clocks are this way, Cecil. This is ver-"

Carlos opened his eyes, and found himself not in the lab, but alone in his apartment. He took a tentative step towards his door, drawn by a force he couldn't know, "There's something at my door, Cecil. I need to go, okay? I'll call you back in...well, I don't know." He ended the call, walking closer to the wall and peeking through the window that looked down the apartment building to the shared door at the base. This door was locked to those without a key, unless one were to press the buzzer in their apartment, and had a single figure standing in front of it. Carlos tapped his phone screen once again, waiting for the answering machine message to end,

"There's a man in a jacket holding a leather suitcase outside my door, Cecil. He's not knocking, he's just standing in front of my door. I can't make out his face. I'm peering through a crack in the living room blinds - Oh no, he saw me!" Carlos fumbled again with the phone, dropping it this time as the indescribable figure suddenly looked up, straight into his window.

Carlos opened his eyes, the laboratory just as bright and sterile around him as ever, slightly concerned looks on his fellow scientists' faces, he shrugged, and realized his phone was already dialing Cecil, "Sorry about that, Cecil. I forget what I was doing. I think somebody came over...but I don't remember who or what for. Anyway, I need to meet you. Are you free tomorrow afternoon? You have a contact number for the mayor and someone with the police, right? It's important that I find them. And again, can you get the word out on your radio show about the clocks?"

He smiled absentmindedly as he hung up, looking around at his team, "What? What're you looking at me like that for?"

"You disappeared." Miller's expression was an irregular sort of bewilderment.

"No, no I didn't." Carlos chuckled softly, setting his phone down on his desk and looking over his shoulder at the scientists, who were still staring at him, "I _didn't!_ Calm down." He went back to tinkering with the clock on his desk, and as they tried to protest, the weather started in exact harmony with Carlos' phone chiming, "One second, I've gotta get this." He smiled as he read the caller id, and picked up the cell.

"Hey, Cecil. What's up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dance party because Carlos came out! Also because I'm a terrible writer who skips months at a time because I don't have any ideas. ;A;
> 
> Next chapter is poetry week, I'll be focusing on traffic, if you care enough to read that over. It'll be a little trip on the feels train, chugga-chugga, boohoo! (Get it? Whoo-whoo, boohoo? It's funny, I'm hilarious. Why isn't anyone dating me?)


	6. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, just a tiny warning, this chapter might contain a trigger, there's a homophobic parent. If that's gonna be an issue for you, move on ahead! The last thing I want is to worry you.
> 
> Also, if you're triggered by the incorrect use of Spanish, I advise you either not read or just shake your fist in the general direction of google translate.

It had been nearly four months since Carlos came out to himself and the other scientists. For the first while, he was able to convince himself that Night Vale was all that really mattered, and that since no one here was anything but supportive, maybe the rest of the world would feel the same.

His bi-weekly phone conversations with his mother hadn't gotten easier by any means. Every single time it came up, "Are you seeing anyone? Have you met a girl yet?" And every single time he almost mentioned Cecil, almost came out. Almost.

_"Listeners, today begins Night Vale Poetry Week - one of our most sacred town traditions."_

It was part-way through the broadcast, just before traffic when Carlos worked up the nerve. He picked up his phone, easily finding the contact labeled **Mama** and sitting nervously through the rings.

"Hello? _Cariño_ , I can't believe you're calling! Is everything okay?"

"Mama. I have to talk to you. Are you home right now?"

"Yes, what's going on? What happened?" Carlos sighed, closing his eyes to collect his thoughts, the radio playing softly beside him.

_"On Sunday, a lambent crevice/opened up in the street outside my house./By Tuesday, birds were flying into it."_

"Mama, do you remember My junior year of high school? D-do you remember Terri?"

"Carlos, I thought you had repented from that, the Lord forgives your sin."

"I, Mama. I don't think that it was sin. I'm, Mama I'm gay." Dammit, Carlos was already tearing up. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his lab coat. "I thought about it and, well, I don't like girls, Mama. And there's this guy-"

_""I probably won't miss you," my mother said./"I'm only interested in the end of the world," I replied."_

"Carlos." Her cold, unfeeling voice hurt more than any yelling could ever amount to. "Think about what you're telling me."

_"Many find it difficult to breathe/without the atmosphere,/but we knew how;/we just stopped breathing."_

"The truth." His voice was suddenly strong, no longer shaking or cracking. "This- this is the truth. I'm gay, Mama. And I'm tired of telling myself there's anything wrong with that."

"You aren't thinking at all. Come home, we can talk about this. You should never have left, that town is corrupting you, _hijo!"_  


_"We're at the Moonlight All-Night Diner,and they're serving up fruit/from the plants growing out of the waitress."_

"Night Vale is _the best_ thing that's ever happened to me." Carlos was getting choked up again, blinking tears from his eyes. "Don't you dare say a single thing like that, this is no one's fault."

His mama is crying now, too. A sound that rips Carlos to pieces. "What did we do wrong with you? Was I a bad mother? You must hate me to say these things. You must hate me."

_"The closed sign whispers, "Please, don't touch me."/We watch bodies fall to the ground outside/like deep sea creatures surfacing."_

"This isn't a punishment! I just want to be honest around you, Mama!" Carlos had crumpled off his seat onto the floor of his apartment, pulling his knees to his chest while he cried.

_"I never wanted it to be like this.""You turn to me and ask,/"Do you ever think about suicide?"/I look away from you and close my eyes,/eat the raspberries to confuse the blood in my mouth."_

"Then you should've resisted temptation, _cabrón_ because you've really done it now. Wait until I tell your father, what will the neighbours think?"

"This is why I didn't want to tell you! I knew you'd do this, I knew you'd hate me." Carlos had to restrain himself from yelling, crying harder as he got wound up.

_"Now you're in the only car in the parking lot at midnight/and you're watching me throw stones at the moon/which hangs low in the sky/so that he can look into your house."_

"Oh, _Dios!_ Don't blame this on me, _cariño,_ you brought this on yourself." There was a break that lasted maybe seconds, maybe hours. Years could've past as Carlos sat, crumpled on the thin carpet. "I can't change you, can I?"

_"Your sister tried to touch him/from her window once,/and he flinched./Now he and the oceans watch her with a quiet concern."_

"No. You can't." Carlos swallowed audibly, trying to sit up straighter.

_"The lilac sky is trying to rest her head on his shoulder,/all trees gradually growing through her./A hummingbird whispers to you,/"Be careful. Under her dress is her skin,"/and then builds his nest in the middle of the highway."_

"Then I guess there's no use." She sounded broken, defeated, but Carlos felt nothing but excitement. "You mentioned a boy? Is he good to you?"

_"I look back to you,/and you close your eyes."_

"He tells me I'm perfect." His voice was hardly a whisper, weighed down with all the tenderness and love he felt towards Cecil. He had never spoken of anyone with such quiet affection, and began a slow blush to mention it to his mother.

"You are, _cariño_. Never date anyone who believes otherwise."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my smiling god, his Mama told him he was perfect. I wish, all I got was the shitty homophobic part.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope that wasn't too hard to follow or anything, I tried to kinda make it mirror the traffic from poetry week, so yeah.


	7. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I hate this chapter the most. I know, it's kinda supposed to be important, but I'm tired of revising it.

One year.

One year since Carlos and his band of scientists came, fresh from university into this small desert community. One year since he first doubted basic science. One year since Cecil Palmer first mentioned Carlos Mendoza's perfect hair.

One year.

Cecil had invited him to a small ceremony to celebrate a year of Science and discovery in Night Vale. Carlos, though eager to attend, found himself sidetracked.

"So, apparently things are stirring up at Desert Flower." It was an offhand comment from Devon that started it all.

"Desert Flower?"

"Yeah, you know. The Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. Apparently the underground army is preparing to attack, that Teddy guy's been freaking out, interrupting games and stuff like that."

Carlos looked up now from his table, "Underground army? We never really looked into that, did we? I still didn't believe Night Vale's weirdness back then..." He checked his watch (the one working timepiece in Night Vale) and shrugged, "I've got time. I'll check it out."

 

~~~

 

Carlos had run into difficult people before, skeptics and others who simply want to interfere with the scientific process, but Teddy Williams was a first.

He stood, neck corded as he shouted to the small gathering of people, calling them a militia, although most of them had been assembled for a birthday party. Rallying them to prepare an attack on the pin retrieval area. He told tales of a crazed army who thirsted for the blood of Night Vale's citizens. As Carlos walked into the bowling alley, he passed the Apache Tracker, who smoked near the door. Carlos shot a look of disgust as he stared at the large, exaggerated headdress.

Carlos pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed Devon, who'd been working loosely with this case, "Somebody's got to get to the bottom of this. This Teddy Williams guy is deranged, I'm gonna see if I can't talk to this 'underground army'." He pushed through the militia with little effort, and was walking through the large room which held the standard Night Vale scent of cinnamon and drying blood. It was like no time at all had passed before he was at the pin retrieval in lane five, and as he walked forward, an empty cup rolled past him and fell into the hole.

Oh, wait. But that made no sense! Of course, it is Night Vale, and anything is possible...

Carlos burst back into the group, shouting to be heard over the murmur of the crowd, "Please! Everyone, follow me to the pin retrieval area, you need to see this, need to understand!" After a moment of hesitation, the small militia followed him through the dark and rank bowling alley into the back, where they struggled to fit. Each wanting to be near enough to see, but not close enough to be in danger.

Suddenly feeling the pressure, the importance of his discovery weighing on him, Carlos swallowed deeply. _One foot in front of the other_ and before he knew it, Carlos was walking into the hole. He heard scattered gasps from the onlookers but he didn't turn back, forging his way down the slope and before long, standing in the center of the town.

"Behold!" Carlos instantly doubted his word choice, but raised his arms to gestured around him, "This is not an enormous city miles below the earth. It is a very _small_ city about _ten feet_ below the earth, populated by tiny people, who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the ten feet to our world!" He pointed down at a spire that reached just below his knees where a group of aforementioned tiny people were gathering, "We have nothing to fear!"

He listened, a smug look on his face as the gathered citizens of Night Vale murmured among themselves, some tentatively braving a step or two down into the hole themselves, when he first felt it.

It was a small prick in his leg, enough to make him squeak out an, "Ow!" And lean down to look closer. He had only just noticed the miniature spear protruding from his leg when more came flying. He hardly had the time to jerk back upright when the fresh volley of projectiles pierced his skin, gaining height.

They had certainly broken skin, and his jeans were just beginning to show the darker spill of blood. The next shots were accompanied with scattered explosions, and with each passing second there was more miniscule soldiers gathered, launching spears, rocks, and increasingly so, explosives. Shots were reaching his chest and now it seemed that every explosion brought a previously unknown anguish. Blood was seeping through his clothing in torrents, and he fell to his knees, feeling the small bodies crush beneath him. He swayed a moment before he fell forward, his senses faded but he thought he heard screams coming from above, and - perhaps he was dreaming - Russian.

 

~~~

 

Carlos awoke on the hardwood of the bowling alley, Teddy Williams leaning away from him, holding a roll of bandages.

"Ладно, ладно. Я знал, это случится. Ты можешь взять мою машину." He turned his head, and watched as the Apache Tracker struggled out a hoarse last breath.

Carlos sat up, pulling his blood-stained shirt over his shoulders and, when no one protested, stood. He opened his mouth, but found nothing to say, instead looking to the empty and lifeless body of the Apache Tracker and sighing.

"I'm sorry." To no one, and to everyone. He received no answer and retrieved his lab coat from the chair someone had hung it on. "I am so sorry." And he left.

 

~~~

 

**Didn't die, please tell Miller to look into the miniature army from below lane five.**

He sent Devon the text quickly, still feeling numb as he sat in his small apartment's kitchen. He'd changed his clothing, throwing the bloodied flannel and jeans away without a moment's hesitation. Without thinking, he typed out a second text to a hardly-used contact.

**Meet me in the Arby's parking lot.**

It may have been careless, and Carlos had trouble explaining his reasoning, even to himself, but the text was gone. Carlos stood, picking up his car keys. After all, Cecil was expecting him.

 

~~~

 

"What is it?" Carlos turned his head from his perch on the hood of his coupe and saw Cecil, walking towards him, a dress flowing down to his knees. Perfect Cecil, who Carlos loved. He could admit that now, to himself under the endless void which was the sky and within the endless desert which was Night Vale. He could admit that without hating himself, though his stomach still clenched. "Wha-what danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?"

"Nothing." Carlos shook his head slowly, softly. "After everything that happened... I just wanted to see you."

He watched as Cecil blushed, fidgeting with his hands and looking first to Carlos, then to the earth and finally at his own hands. "Oh?" His head lifted slowly, and their eyes met. They stayed this way for a tenuous moment before Carlos turned his head to the setting sun.

"I used to think it was setting at the wrong time," Of course, talking science. This happened when Carlos was lost, searching for anything to say. "but then I realized that time doesn't work in Night Vale, and that none of the clocks are real. Sometimes things seem so strange, or malevolent, and then you find that, underneath, it was something else altogether. Something pure, and innocent." He was looking at Cecil again, smiling now.

"I know what you mean." Cecil's blush had died, and he returned the gentle smile.

Carlos patted the hood of the coupe beside him, and looked up in the sky. Strange lights flashed and swirled, dancing like Aurora Borealis through the twilight sky although Night Vale was far too south for such phenomenon. He was still gazing into the complex pattern of light when Cecil sat beside him, their legs brushing against each other and Carlos looked to his right, into Cecil's eyes.

He looked down at their legs, gently resting against each other. Cecil's pale blue dress skirting the top of his knee. Carlos rested a hand on the dark, bare skin of Cecil's knee, ignore his own burning blush. After a brief moment of hesitation, where Cecil opened his mouth with a soft gasp of air, the radio host rested his head on Carlos' shoulder and together watched the lights. Content to touch and relax and just be together for this moment.

One year.

One year since Carlos had hated himself for the words this man spoke. One year since he had hated Cecil for caring.

One year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there'll be an epilogue, then we're done! Enjoy these cute little gay losers, the last chapter is written kinda hardly sorta better. I don't know, this is my first fic stop expecting stuff from me.


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short but so important I swear you guys.

It came back to him, sometimes. A sharp twist in his stomach or weight in his heart. It came when he first stood close enough to see Cecil's makeup. It came when the radio host showed up to dinner in a pastel sundress. It came during their first kiss. It came as they made love and when he woke up the morning after.

These were the times Carlos hated himself. Hated himself for loving Cecil and for not being strong enough to avoid temptation. It never lasted, he silenced the hateful thoughts by holding Cecil's hand, kissing him softly, whispering that he'd never let him go. He never told Cecil that it was still there, that it was indoctrinated and never would leave him.

Life wasn't ever easy, and their relationship was no exception. Carlos forgot anniversaries, Cecil started arguments about basic facts of nature, but these things never stood a chance against their love. Soon, all their accomplishments were together, and their joy outnumbered the times Carlos felt revulsion. First date, moving in together, their first fight, defeating StrexCorp, being separated, being reunited, when Cecil met Carlos' parents, when Carlos proposed, and their wedding day. Each moment its own monument, but the greatest of all being the years they spent at each others' sides.

Carlos may not have fallen in love instantly, but that did not stop him from loving Cecil wholeheartedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's it! I hope you all enjoyed it, I had a lot of fun with that.
> 
> Can you imagine, though? Carlos literally feels loathing for himself when he looks at his bby boy that makes me so mad that this is a real thing that happens to me and other people, like wow.

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah. I dunno. Comments are love, guys! I'll be updating once a night-ish. <3 Stay cool.


End file.
